


From the Storm: Daryl x reader

by Lycan_luxe



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Daryl Dixon x Reader, Eventual Romance, Multi, Protective Daryl Dixon, Reader-Insert, Romance, daryl Dixon / reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 17:57:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19156045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lycan_luxe/pseuds/Lycan_luxe
Summary: The world you knew is gone. So, by chance or fate, you've run into an opportunity to start again.This is a fic which follows the show, right from the beginning, as if you were there.





	From the Storm: Daryl x reader

You'd never thought Atlanta would ever be the worst place to live, especially during events of disaster. Or mass hysteria, whichever came first. You'd decided that after dropping out of nursing school, you'd move back to the city to be close to your father and younger brother. They needed all the help they could get, especially since your brother tended to get himself into less-than-favorable situations. And your father was, well…your father. He was kind of an airhead and really didn't know what he was doing most of the time. You're lucky you turned out to be a somewhat competent adult. A college dropout, sure, but hey. At least you tried.

I-85 ended up being a mass civilian campground after the first few broadcasts went out over the EAS. People panicked, or course, as people do. A wave of mass hysteria swallowed the entire state, it seemed, and everyone had the same idea to get out of the major cities as fast as possible. Leading to the inevitable backup of traffic. Cars, RV's, trucks, vehicles of all kinds populated the highway as far as the eye could see, with no signs of any break.   
You, your brother, your father and your grandparents had been trapped in the traffic snarl for the past few days, having been forced to use the truck as a campsite. It was pretty obvious that no one would be moving any time soon. And the few police cars that passed by the snarl were heading into the city in the opposite side of the highway, roaring by the camped cars at impossibly high speeds, sirens blaring ominously.  
Your father turned on the radio for just a moment, leaning against the open door of the truck. His once full face was now haggard and tired, his cheeks almost appearing hollow. The events of the past few days had really worn on him…he'd never looked so tired. Your grandparents looked as though they were a thousand years old…they, too, were being affected pretty badly.  
'This is not a test. Emergency warning. Do not venture outside your homes. Remain calm. Help is on the way. The emergency alert system has been activated…' droned the robotic voice. Nothing had changed.  
The airwaves were still nothing but a repeat of the same message. But at least it was better than dead static…maybe the government was just trying to get its shit together and manage whatever was happening.

More days passed, you didn't even remember how many. Your family was still trapped on the highway with the others who'd tried to flee when the broadcasts started. You'd managed to find out that the infrastructure was crumbling, and the city was no longer safe to be anywhere near. People were slaughtering one another over car keys, not to mention the infected multiplying like mad. Your grandfather was getting sick, and you had no idea what to do. Your father had attempted to approach Atlanta by foot but was forced to turn back when the army had begun blocking off the city. Your food and water were running dangerously low, and there was much tension among those also camped out on the highway. Fighting was now an everyday occurrence. 

Even more time had passed. You'd lost your grandfather to his sickness, and you were forced to bury him alongside the highway. Your grandmother wasn't handling the loss well, at all. Your father was forced to ration what was left of the food. That, of course, didn't go well.   
Your brother cried almost every night. And sometimes, he'd ask you if help was ever coming. You didn't know.

Roughly two weeks had gone by. The distant explosions coming from the city had ceased, now there was only the distant echo of gunfire. You'd learned from the man camped next to your family that the only hope the city had against the outbreak, the CDC, had been overrun. The military had been completely overwhelmed by the wave of the infected, and they dropped the fire bombs. They lit up the horizon like a fantastic sunset of brilliant orange. Your father had died defending you, your brother and your grandmother from a group of the infected…there was nothing left of him to bury.

And eventually, two months passed since the start of the initial outbreak. Your father was gone, your grandmother had wandered off during the night in the first month. You presumed she'd died. Your brother, whom you'd sent on a supply run, never returned…he, too, must be dead. Even the radio had gone silent. The city no longer lit up at night.  
Where was God now?

And you were left with nothing. The other survivors on the highway had either abandoned their cars and moved on, were killed, or simply died due to the lack of resources. Now it was only you. You'd managed to survive on your own, teaching yourself how to live on what little resources you had…and honing the hunting skills which your dad had taught you. However, despite how well you'd been doing, everyone's luck must run out at some point. Good fortune always eventually falls short.   
You'd left your father's truck in pursuit of a better shelter, and possibly more survivors. You probably wouldn't last much longer on your own. But you'd failed to realize your own limitations, which had always been a fault of yours. You hadn't eaten or drank for a couple of days now, and your mind was starting to get fuzzy. You hadn't slept either.  
Thunder crashed loudly overhead as lightning flashed in the sky, illuminating the path in front of you for a moment. Rain pelted down from the pitch-black clouds, whipping you harshly as you trudged forward steadily through the dark woods. The trees did not offer much shelter from such a storm as this.   
You were tired. So, so tired. And your mind was foggy.   
Your vision blurred, shapes and colors began to swirl together in a crazy drunken montage as your balance faltered. Perhaps you shouldn't have opted to make this journey in such a state.   
You stumbled between a gap in the trees and bushes, your legs catching some sort of rope and bringing you crashing to the wet earth in a cacophony of noise. The metallic jangling of whatever was tied to the ropes could be heard even over the rolling thunder. It must be someone's idea of an early warning system. Or something.   
You didn't bother to try and move…there was no energy left to move your arms or legs. Looks like this might be it for you. Good going, (y/n).

But within moments, you began to hear various shouts from close by. Men, women, children…things were growing too dark and fuzzy for you to try and focus. Maybe you were just having your life flash before your eyes. Isn't how this always goes in the movies? Whatever.

"Walker! Walker by the fence, get the kids inside!" a man shouted.   
Footsteps, muffled voices, the sound of something metallic. Probably a gun. Or several guns.  
Then several sets of heavy footsteps approaching you. This had to be a hallucination.  
"Hol' on. Ain't no walker, look at the backpack. And the clothes." Another man's voice.  
"Y'all blind? Looks like one of the dead ones to me." A woman's voice.  
"No, look closer. Walkers skin don't look like that. How the hell did some girl wander all the way out here?" The same voice who'd shouter a few moments ago.

Within a few moments, you couldn't stay awake any longer. You were so tired…  
Then, blackness. And you knew nothing else.  
.................


End file.
